


Blind

by Relvetica



Series: Wolves [6]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:50:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvetica/pseuds/Relvetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Try, Numbers said, in his halting but determined way, to see… the same as me. Try. Think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind

Try, Numbers said, in his halting but determined way, to see… the same as me. Try. Think.

Wrench slouched back in his side of booth and wished he were almost anywhere else. He wasn't hungry for the burger he'd ordered, and he wasn't eager to see what direction this conversation would take after Numbers was served the bourbon _he'd_ ordered. I don't understand why you're angry, he said, which wasn't true; he had a pretty good idea why Numbers was angry and it was working on making Wrench angry, too.

Not angry, Number said. He paused for a long moment and spelled out W-O-R-R-I-E-D.

A muscle under Wrench's eye twitched. Normally he'd go ahead and demonstrate any signs Numbers needed and didn't know, but he wasn't in the mood to play tutor. Why? he asked.

They were in some chain family restaurant, the kind with kitsch all over the walls that served mixed drinks by the goblet. He'd ordered a Fanta. He used to like this kind of place because the menus had pictures he could point at, saving the waiter from squinting, but having someone to interpret for him had changed a lot of things that used to be routine. It was a double-edged sword; every child in the dining room was openly staring at a clearly hostile conversation, and every adult was pretending she wasn't.

Numbers clenched his hands briefly. I don't like... I don't know where you go. Where, I need to know.

No, Wrench said.

Yes! Numbers nodded his hand hard enough to make it look threatening. Partners! You can't--

I can, Wrench said. I'm an adult. I can go out. Get a drink. Whatever. I don't need your permission.

Numbers eyed him from across the table just long enough to make Wrench think that he maybe didn't know that last word, but then he deliberately raised his eyebrows and said, get a drink?

Technically, it wasn't a lie. But it was hardly the truth, either, and it was only now that Wrench knew how fully Numbers realized that. He maintained stubborn eye contact for a moment or two longer, but it couldn't be sustained; he glanced away, knowing it made him look guilty, unable to help it.

Numbers let him do that -- rather deliberately let him do that -- before waving for his attention again. Different conversation, he said somewhat ominously. But you want a drink? We go out, we get a drink. Easy. Not awake at two, not-- he mimed punching himself in the eye.

Wrench had been recruited by a syndicate guy after finding himself in the middle of a particularly brutal bar fight, after which he'd allowed himself the arrogant flourish of closing his tab with a trio of twenties on the bar and a matching set of assholes on the floor. He didn't pull stunts like that anymore, but Numbers had seen him shoot, maim, and beat more than his fair share of men nearly to death. His sudden concern for the well-being of Wrench's face was not convincing.

How old do you think I am? Wrench asked.

He couldn't tell from Numbers' frown whether he thought this was a trick question or he wasn't sure he was signing twenty-three correctly.

An adult, Wrench said. I don't need a C-U-R-F-E-W. I don't need anyone treating me like a child because I'm deaf.

Now it was Numbers' turn to blink with surprised guilt, and Wrench's grim satisfaction at that didn't outweigh his renewed flare of resentment. Not because you're deaf! Numbers objected, his hands tripping over themselves. Not because you're deaf! Because you're twenty-three and you're stupid!

Same for everyone? Wrench asked. You want to E-S-C-O-R-T everyone everywhere so -- he laughed as he said it -- they don't get punched in the face? I'm deaf, not B-L-I-N-D. I don't need a G-U-I-D-E-D-O-G.

Numbers leaned in angrily and said, this kills you. 

Wrench frowned.

The job, dangerous. This? More, very dangerous. And no one watching for you, no one listening for you. No partners where you go. Don't think you're safe because twenty-three is adult.

Numbers' gaze was black and painfully intense. I'm not going to die, Wrench said. Not in a bar in S-D.

Numbers looked like he had something to say to that, but they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. They avoided eye contact as they ate, and Wrench found that he wasn't mad anymore. He didn't know how he felt. He knew what it was Numbers was afraid of, but he didn't understand anymore why it made him so angry.


End file.
